


Pharma Is Filth

by Decepticrazy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Nasty, Vomit, Watersports, mestruation, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticrazy/pseuds/Decepticrazy
Summary: Absolute indulgent filthy filthy smut. Pleeeeeease walk away if you're going to be offended by robots having their period and then Tarn beign awful in every way. See the tags. This is just dirty filthy awful stuff here. And I love it. <3(please note that I would never imply that menstruation is anything other than a normal natural process and nothing to be ashamed of. This is a fic. These are giant robots. Things don't work quite the same way here.)





	

Pharma had been meticulous! He'd managed to ship his custom ordered medicine in every month... every month! For years now... But... the supply chain had been severed... Tarn had become greedy, demanding. He wanted more and more... pushing Pharma to bring him more T-cogs with every visit! Refusing to take no for an answer and fragging poor Pharma into the ground every slagging time REGARDLESS of whether the mech had met the quota or not.

“Frag the quota!” Pharma grumbled, curled up on his berth. He'd made something up to excuse himself for the afternoon... claimed he was suffering a minor fever that simply needed time and rest to mend. Of course, being the respected mech he was, no one questioned Pharma. 

Everything was going just fine, just fine and slagging dandy! Except of course... that the break in the supply chain meant limited resources.... Pharma was reduced to a half cube of energon a day, tanks rumbling noisily in hunger. And even worse? His slagging frame had chosen NOW of all times to act up. Perfect! 

Pharma was not a young mech... not old... but not young either... he'd been created before modern reproductive systems came into mass production, possessing outdated equipment that was inefficient and unsanitary by modern standards. Of course, Pharma had undergone to procedure to replace his equipment but, for whatever reason, his frame would not accept the new parts. They were rejected with every attempt to upgrade and eventually, Pharma was forced to settle with his outdated systems.

He'd managed it so far... hiding the unsightly effects from his colleagues. But now... now his medications were unavailable... he'd have to let his reproductive organs return to their standard functions... Pharma curled up tighter on the berth, hating this, hating this place, hating Tarn. He was the one who was responsible for the blockade after all.

What made Pharma different and caused him such distress was the fact that his gestation chamber did not filter out impure and old energon like modern frames did. With modern frame types... the energon stored in gestation chambers was routinely filtered and cleaned, eliminating the outdated and inefficient method where the energon was simply voided every so often, left to dribble freely from the valve. Thankfully there were at least hygenic products to help absorb or collect the waste fuel.

These systems had become so rare... so outdated that they were seen as strange, even filthy by many mechs. Unfortunately... Pharma didn't have the luxury of upgrading his frame, nor did he have access to the medicine that would filter his gestation chamber for him and prevent the voiding! He could normally avoid the revolting cycle for the most part but now... he was left to deal with his frame's disgusting little quirk.

Fortunately, Pharma had at least scrounged up and sanitised a little cup that he'd found in the supply closet, fitting it in to his valve to catch the stale fuel as it dribble down. The whole process was unpleasant... messy... and even left him with abdominal cramps, worse than any he'd had before thanks to the lack of painkillers at his disposal! They were all reserved for more important, more dire circumstances.

Pharma growled and punched the berth. Why did it have to be like this.... everything was going smoothly for a time. Then that slagging... sadistic bastard got greedy! He hissed, the anger and violent motions only making the cramps plaguing his systems worse. He cringed at the feel of another dribble of stale energon dripping into the moulded cup just beyond his valve entrance, keeping it trapped inside. It felt warm and filthy, unwanted. He needed to get up and wash the little cup out again, rolling over on the berth instead and groaning. He just didn't want to move.

Too late. Internal pings sounded off, flaring as a patient went into relapse, sparkpulse dropping to critical levels. Pharma bolted out the door, ignoring his own discomfort, the revolting slosh of fluids shifting in his valve. Pit, why had he been laying there feeling sorry for himself instead of taking care of that! No time now! He had to move before the patient crashed!

Ambulon and First Aid were there with him, each of them hurrying to stabilise the injured mech. He'd been one they'd dragged in from the cold, overlooked during the butchery of the DJD's last attack on their supply shipments. Since then, no vessel would come near Delphi, no matter how desperately they needed the supplies, no matter who ordered it. No one was game to stand up to the DJD. Except Pharma... he was all that stood between this place becoming a lifeless graveyard.

Each mech rushed to do their part and this one... Pharma even thought about saving them for a time. They'd been healthy... stable... 

Tarn didn't need that.... Pharma didn't need that....

He needed one more corpse to butcher in order to fill the quota, in order to please Tarn. He'd been slowly poisoning this one... trace amounts of toxic substances gradually building and taking a toll on the mech's spark until it finally gave out. No one would suspect. No one would ask. Pharma would be the one to do the autopsy. 

When all three eventually bowed their helms in defeat, the patient offlining after a brief fight for survival, Pharma drew a sheet over the dead mech's helm, shuttering his optics. Once he was unhooked from the equipment, Pharma wheeled him in to the autopsy room, the doors swinging shut behind him. The others would rest, thanking Pharma for dealing with the aftermath, retreating to their own rooms to dwell on what mistakes they'd made, how they could have saved the poor mech. Pharma smiled ruefully. If only they knew the truth... There was nothing they could have done. The mech's fate was sealed the moment he'd arrived at Delphi.

. . . .

Pharma took a moment to compose himself, always hating the act, the show he was forced to put on as he worked alongside the others. It was draining... He had to play the part of the desperate surgeon, all the while muttering inside his helm, 'die, die, just die already!'

The doctor took a few deep invents, calming himself, steeling his resolve. He'd done this so many times before... he could do it again... What did it matter that he'd poisoned this mech? Effectively killed him himself, signed his spark over to those animals...

'It made no difference.'

Thats what he told himself.

Then, a ping. Who was- why would anyone contact him now... He hurried to wheel the dead mech in, fetching up his tools and getting to work. His servos began to shake as he sliced open the dead mech. Another ping.

Oh Primus... he knew who it was... he knew... he didn't want to answer... don't make him answer... Venting shakily, pulling himself together as best he could, Pharma accepted the communications request, immediately regretting it.

::Pharma...::

That voice made him shiver, spark deep fear making his frame coil and shrink, servos slamming palm side down on the stretcher, his whole frame shaking.

::Tarn. I told you I needed more time. I'll have the last one for you soon.::

::Pharma....:: 

His voice was a terrifying sing-song melody of threat. Pharma vented in terrified little gasps and this... this was just his voice... Tarn wasn't before him... looking at him with those sparkless optics... servos roving over his frame... No! He couldn't.... shouldn't think that... just because he'd sold his spark and his frame to the monster... didn't mean he should enjoy it!

::Pharma... my dear Pharma...::

The physician whimpered, thankful that there was nobody there to hear him, to see the way his leg struts pressed together, hear how his cooling fans clicked on and struggled to expel the excess heat his frame was creating.

::You've kept me waiting long enough... for every klik you keep me waiting... I'll increase the quota. You'll have to bring me one more t-cog... offline one more patient... you wouldn't want that now... would you, doctor...?:: The mech's vocals purred, so saccharine-sweet. He'd been generous... patient... but Pharma had made him wait for so very long.

::No! That's not-we had a deal, Tarn!::

That deep, lyrical laughter echoed through Pharma's processor and he knew... he knew it had been foolish to think that Tarn would ever keep his part of the bargain. He was merely humouring Pharma, going along with this little charade until he tired of it. It was Pharma's job to keep Tarn happy... no matter what that meant.

::Please. A little longer. I have it now!::

He'd made a mess of that frame, servos trembling too much for a clean incision, as he hurried to get that blasted t-cog free! Tarn kept tormenting him... threatening him... those vocals a terrible but sweet purr in his processor. When he was done, Pharma threw a sheet over the victim. He didn't have time to do more! He'd have to make it back before Ambulon and First-Aid found the victim, have to patch him up then, hide the mess he'd made.

::Tick tock, Pharma... that's one already... I'll be waiting.:: 

Tarn cut the transmission, leaving Pharma to fume in outrage. He was the slagging CMO and here he was... Tarn's little errand boy! His butcher! His plaything! That outrageous demand had put the fire back in his spark, anger fuelling him.

Storming through the compound, Pharma made his way to the personal transports, hopping on and seething with anger, hover disc activating, the transport humming to life and soon speeding across the tundra.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

There it was... The Peaceful Tyranny. Just outside of Delphi's scanner range. Not that it would matter anyway... Tarn had managed to equip it with cloaking technology that would leave Delphi's technology in the dust. The outpost was sorely undermanned, understaffed and just barely scraping by. It could certainly do without these monsters and their regular visits.

As usual... it was only Tarn that met him.

“Pharma... finally, you grace me with your presence...” That mask betrayed not a hint of Tarn's true emotions but the edge to his tone did speak volumes of his impatience. “And only 12 kliks late... I believe that counts for... why... 12 more t-cogs! Unless you have something else you might offer me...”

And there is was. Tarn wasn't only impatient. He was eager to 'face. He'd dragged Pharma out here, into the cold, the snow, forced him to leave an autopsy half finished, a frame mutilated and butchered, all to see to his own needs. If Ambulon and First Aid saw what Pharma had done... if they found the mech... peeked under the sheet...

He didn't want to think about it. He had nothing, nothing he could tell the others that would convince them he wasn't in bed with the enemy. And it looked like that was precisely what Tarn had in mind for today's meeting.

“I brought you all of them! Another 12 is too many! It's impossible to hide that and if you had any idea, any notion of what you were asking-” He was getting angry now, outraged. Tarn was so far beyond unreasonable right now it was a joke! “You're a fool! How could I possibly-” 

Tarn was walking, pacing towards him. That frame was so much larger, so much more intimidating up close. Pharma grit his dentals and forced himself to stand his ground despite the way his knees trembled and wanted to buckle underneath him.

“Now, Pharma... is that any way to treat your dear friend..? We've been at this for a while now... I would think you'd have wanted to keep me happy... to keep your little medic friends happy... safe...” He bent down low, grinning behind the mask, melodic vocals breezing over Pharma's audial. “Don't you want that...? To keep them happy...? To keep me happy...?” 

Servos reached for him, Pharma skittering back in fright, in panic. Now more than ever he was aware of the revolting slosh of fluids inside him, overfull. Pit, why hadn't he done something about that when he could! He'd been too caught up with the patient, with Tarn's threats to get a chance! And now the slagger was making a move on him. No. No. No! He... he couldn't... Slag... Tarn was moving closer again.

“Pharma... come now... I'm sure I can show leniency... with a little encouragement of course...” Servos reached out, snapped around Pharma and held him.

The jet squeaked in shock, quivered in fear. No, not now! Pit, not now! He couldn't! He- That anger and righteous indignation left him in a sparkbeat. Pharma sagged into Tarn's grasp in helpless surrender, shivering shaking his helm. “Tarn... stop...” Even as he spoke those powerful servos were on him, roving over wings, thighs, teasing him. It was cold... so cold out here... but he felt warm.

“I can't... please...” He felt so pitiful like this, so weak. Tarn would think him filthy for his frame's dirty little habit and for some reason... that hurt. He shouldn't care what the murderer thought, whether he was appalled or disgusted... what Tarn did went well beyond a distasteful little quirk. He was monstrous... loathsome... and... and... his servo... was wriggling between Pharma's legs.

“No! Stop!” He pushed himself away, stopped still by a glare and then... that voice... “ Be still, Pharma... don't move... don't speak... you've made me wait long enough...” It was clear Tarn wasn't talking about the t-cogs any more.

Pharma shook, he tried to speak, tried to fight but that voice... Tarn kept talking, tone low and unduly soothing. How easily he felt he could sink into that touch and just forget everything... those rich vocals in his audial... that surprisingly gentle touch. Fingers pried open his panel, Pharma helpless to resist. He shivered again. Those fingers rubbed over his valve delightfully, left the jet whimpering lightly. Then... they sunk slowly into his valve, slipping past those tender valve lips and... stopping.

Panic laced through Pharma's field, the doctor regaining a little of his sense as that voice died in his audial. “T-Tarn... I...” He pulled away weakly, the strength sapped from his frame.

“What is this...?” Fingers probed and ground against the little rubber cup, Pharma squeaking in terror all the while.

“Don't!” Too late. Tarn was reaching, tugging, pulling against it, toying with the little rubber thing inside him until he'd jostled it too far, stale energon dripping free.

It hit the ground below them, colouring the snow a deep purple, nothing like the vibrant pink healthy glow of fresh energon. 

Pharma looked mortified, pushing against Tarn, optics wide and terrified. Tarn would think he was filthy, wouldn't want him. Then what! What stood between Tarn and the eradication of Delphi! All those patients... all those Autobots he was bound to protect! He let out a strangled little cry, too terrified, too riddled with fear and anxiety to think, to speak.

Tarn looked at the mess of energon below, optics trailing up from the dark snow, up Pharma's leg struts and over his thighs. A servo moved between them, trailing through the mess there. “Oh my dear Pharma...” 

Pharma shivered again, whimpering, weakly pulling away. He hated this, hated how weak, how filthy, how.... frightened he felt. 

“Such a curious mech you are... even your frame...” 

Why was Tarn touching him? He was filthy! He was... wrong! Disgusting! He yelped when those digits returned to tease at his valve entrance, the sound quickly morphing into a needy moan. 

“Uhnn... b-but...” Trying to push Tarn away again, the doctor froze when those fingers pressed inside him once more. Wasn't Tarn disgusted with him? Why was he doing this... Pharma's faceplates were flushed deeply from a mixture of humiliation and heat, need. He couldn't deny how his body responded to Tarn, how much his frame craved the mech's touch, the feel of his spike plunging inside him... but... why... why wasn't Tarn disgusted with him?

Those fingers probed deeper again, pressing against that little rubber cup, snagging it and yanking it free roughly.

Pharma howled, his lower frame aching and the sudden fear, pain and revulsion of it all hitting him so hard his knees gave out. He sank to the ground, icy, cold pain starting to seep into his joints not that Pharma paid it any mind. He was hugging himself, feeling filthy and hopeless. Was this the part when Tarn would finally end him? Finally put him out of his misery and eradicate every spark on Delphi? His vocals hitched in alarm when instead of the barrel of a fusion cannon, he came face to face with Tarn's spike, stiff, twitching, eager.

Pharma whimpered, feeling too filthy and weak to fight, simply parting his lips and lapping at that firm chord, suckling around it and looking up to Tarn in mingled fear and confusion, optics pooling with coolant tears. He thought... he thought it was over. Tarn still wanted him?

“Mhh.... that's it... I've missed you Pharma... mh... the feel of your lips around my chord... that defiant spark in your optic. Though I must say...” He moaned gently between Pharma's little sucks and laps. “This newfound obedience is also a delight... are you that ashamed?” He let a servo move to Pharma's helm, stroking the jet almost fondly, moaning in pleasure and driving his spike deeper into that tight, warm intake.

Tarn pressed a servo to Pharma's helm abruptly, tearing his spike free, shoving Pharma back and looking down at him, waiting. “Well...?”

It was difficult to talk, to think with that monster staring down at him, that mask betraying no hint of emotion, those optics cold and empty of emotion. He stuttered for a moment, bewildered. “I... yes! Of course I am! This is... I'm filthy!” He grimaced at the implication of his words, the sudden heat he swore was radiating from Tarn's frame. “I...”

The tankformer was on him a moment later, forcing Pharma onto his back, spreading those legs and forcing his spike deep into that bleeding, wet valve a moment later with a wet noise. 

Pharma screamed, half from pain as Tarn forced himself too deep too quickly, half from mingled terror and revulsion. “Ahh! Wh-nooo! No, Tarn! Please! This-” As soon as the mech started to move however, Pharma was reduced to whimpers and moans, his aching valve soothed wonderfully by that firm pressure. Before long he was bucking back against Tarn, panting, whimpering in need. 

“Ahnnn! Mh-Tarn... but... this isn't-”

“Isn't right...? And why-” A rogh thrust punctuated his words. “-why should I care about that, dear Pharma?” The mech below him was so warm and wet. What was a little energon on his spike? The sight of it was exciting... bringing up memories of kills he'd enjoyed... of victims who'd begged beautifully for him... caving and pleading... it was almost like he was fragging his helpless jet to death... that pool of energon below them growing larger and larger as more of the stale fluids were forced free, all manner of indecent wet 'schlorps' and slaps meeting the jet's audials as Pharma continued to bleed.

He could picture it... tearing Pharma open... fragging his twitching, bleeding frame as the mech screamed for mercy. He was tempted... oh he was so very, very tempted. The sight below had him tipping towards overload, the wet slap of his codpiece against Pharma's aft driving him crazy.

“Uhn... look at you. You finally look as filthy as you are, Pharma... my little traitor... my medic... you should see yourself... sobbing and keening for me... coated in your own fluids...” Tarn was teetering on the brink already, Pharma's sudden overload almost pushing him over.

“Ahhh! Ahhh Tarn... n-no! No- I! He babbled and sobbed, shaking, valve clamping down so hard it ached, milking that spike, more and more fluids dripping from between his thighs, staining Tarn's plating, darkening the ground beneath them. “I'm not!” He howled the denial as overload tore through his frame, stiff spike spurting release, spattering over his own abdomen, valve squirting with a wash of lubricants and energon both. He was a mess and now... every thrust felt even better, his valve tender, sensitive, aching for more. Oh, he wanted more!

Tarn grit his dentals and forced himself to hold back. He wanted to keep Pharma writhing beneath him, see how far he could push the mech, if he could make him beg!

Another firm thrust had Pharma howling and clutching at Tarn, the jet desperate to find something to cling to, to ground himself, to anchor his mind as his frame twitched in continued need, his valve throbbed and ached for more. “Mhhh! Hahhh!” He was... he was overloading again! Another scream was ripped from the jet's vocaliser as his frame locked up, clamping down around Tarn hard, milking that spike for all it was worth, Pharma sobbing and panting, writhing below. 

His lip plates were parted, drool clinging to the corner of his intake, optics whiting out from pure pleasure as his spike dribbled another tiny trickle of release. “Uhnnn! T-Tarn... please!” Panting, moaning, Pharma wasn't sure what he was begging for now. Probably for the pleasure to never end, to just stay in this perfect moment where nothing mattered, refusing to return to reality.

Tarn plunged in and out of that sloppy, wet hole, sounds of pleasure mingling with wet, indecent noises as more and more fluids dripped down, energon staining Pharma's legs, dribbling down to his pedes. Tarn was not spared, his own plating wet and tainted around his hips and thighs. He rutted in heated desire, drinking in every little sob, every cry of need and shamless moan.

In one brilliant moment, the pressure in the pit of his tank curled and exploded, frame shuddering as overload took him. Thick, warm fluids pumped into Pharma, staining his filthy, wet valve with warm, sticky release. Tarn groaned through his release, servos pinning Pharma, forcing him down on his throbbing, twitching chord as the medic screamed. 

Finally, it was over, Tarn lingering inside Pharma, that warm, firm pressure slowly softening. Below him, Pharma sobbed, feeling filthy, violated, terrible.

The medic yepled when he felt something else... a warm, heavy flow of fluids filling him. He gaped up at Tarn, quickly hiding his face, hating himself as his body responded. He twitched and spasmed, valve quivering and rippling with every drop as Tarn's hot waste fluids filled him, the potent, heavy stream dousing his valve, warmth washing over his ceiling node and making the jet sob. He clawed at the ground, fighting himself, shaking his helm lightly as coolant tears streaked his faceplates. No... no he couldn't be... 

“Uhn... such a disgusting whore... even my waste is cleaner than that filthy valve of yours.”

Those words wrenched another cry from Pharma and the warm gentle pressure on his valve drew a sob. He overloaded again, valve rippling, clamping down around Tarn as Pharma hid his faceplates, trying to will himself to disappear. He shuddered and came again, disgusted at himself that this time it was from the sensation of Tarn pissing inside him, emptying himself, defiling him in the worst way. He couldn't keep himself from arching in arousal, thrusting his hips back in need and fragging the monster's spike. Anything... ANYTHING to relieve that ache! 

“Such a vile mech... you're filthy...”

Sobbing, whimpering, Pharma agreed, shivering and nodding his helm, desperate little whines following as he felt his tank roil, valve rippling in bliss and Pharma trying not to purge. He panted, moaned, the pressure finally easing off, the ache receding as he was left to lay there in his own filth, feeling lower than slag, putrid and vile.

He turned his helm, the sudden need to purge inescapable. The moment Tarn drew back, Pharma was on his his knees, helm down, purging his tanks into the mingled filth below. He sobbed and held himself, keening mournfully, hating himself more than he could bear.

And Tarn... Tarn was there beside him, comforting him, servo stroking over Pharma's helm, those dulcet, sweet vocals in his audial, soothing.

“Pharma... it's alright... I know you... I know how rotten... how filthy your spark is... and now your little friends will know too, won't they? Shhh... go on... go back to them... let them see what you truly are... what you've made of yourself.” His pede pressed Pharma's faceplates into the mingled filth below, purged fuel and mingled putrid fluids forced into his face, Pharma wailing and trying weakly to fight.

“Tell me what you are...”

The jet sobbed, shivering, fluids running down his thighs, foul taste on his glossa. Eventually he stilled, quiet for a time, broken voice whispering, just barely loud enough for Tarn to hear him. “I am filth...”

The tank was pleased with his pet.


End file.
